


Never Knew His Name

by septima_sum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Humans vs. Werewolves, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septima_sum/pseuds/septima_sum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was baffled why the Human Front would send someone so inexperienced. It was a sign of desperation, if he had ever seen one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Knew His Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short but decidedly unfluffy fic. Sexual abuse is experienced through the perpetrator's eyes, which means it is played down and fetishized in the process.
> 
> I do not give permission to share this work (either fully or in excerpts) on third-party websites.

It was early morning when they led the tracker to Derek, the human they had found at their borders. The human stared at him, boyish and scared and stupidly brave, and Derek pondered how to punish him. He was a pitiful sight; a nineteen year old boy from a small town in Northern California, with no discernible military skills. Derek was baffled why the Human Front would send someone so inexperienced. It was a sign of desperation, if he had ever seen one. 

On a whim, Derek decided to keep him.

That night he fucked him for the first time. It was no hardship. He delighted in the sound of subdued, bitten-off moans and in the sight of pale skin peppered with birthmarks. The boy was defiant, but smart, and Derek loved the feel of him, the victory of having the last word, of sinking into him, the head of his cock pushing past the ring of tight heat; the boy’s wide eyes seeking Derek’s, ineffective human nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that only stayed for a heartbeat. 

It was impossible to stop after that.

Derek fucked him in every way he knew, with a sort of frantic feverishness that startled him in quieter moments. He was not cruel, but he also wasn’t kind; giving the boy the time he needed to adjust but not one moment more. He made the boy ride his cock, made him take it while on his hands and knees, perfect globes split open by his thick, veiny cock; spurted come on the immaculate skin of his back, ejaculated into his face, into his waiting mouth; painted the soft pink tongue with stripes of come. Ordered the boy not to swallow before he had stuck out his tongue and showed him every drop he’d collected. Astonishingly, there was something eager in the boy’s eyes when he sank to his knees as soon as Derek commanded him to; secret pleasure unfurling in him, like a flower blooming only at night. 

Derek knew he was aroused as well, even if reluctantly at first.

He began to understand why the others were so fond of their little pets.

They were amusing. 

Throughout the days, he made the boy follow him closely. The South-Western Headquarter was a claustrophobic maze, teeming with wolves from every part of North America. Derek didn’t trust the boy to be fully safe in his rooms. 

And besides. 

The war councils and strategy meetings tended to be tedious, with all the alpha posturing going on, and if Derek could not stand it any longer he pulled the boy aside and dragged him to the next unoccupied room.

“You need this, don’t you, you cock-hungry little slut…”

And when they would go back and the boy’s face would be heating, knowing that there were no secrets among werewolves, knowing that everybody would know what they had done.

That always satisfied Derek a great deal.

Peter, of course, often couldn’t help but comment. “You surprise me, dear nephew! I can’t begin to tell you how unsettling that is. You were always _so_ predictable.” 

And then he would smirk in his trademark way.

Derek deemed it beneath him to rise to the baits. 

 

*

Months went by. 

Derek began to know the boy’s body as well as his own, his infatuation lessening not one iota. He loved waking up with the boy in his arms, when he was pliant and sleep-warm, when the fan of his lashes painted shadows on his cheeks. He loved to catalogue his moans, whimpers, whines and shouts; the sound of him swallowing, the sound of him cursing. 

The sound of his heartbeat. 

Their military advances stuttered to a halt, however. With an alarming frequency the humans began to foresee what they were going to do. Every undercover attack was met with brutal force and swift retaliation. 

For the first time in over a year, the South-Western Lycanthrope Front began to lose land to humans. 

It was worrying and completely baffling. 

And one day the boy was gone. 

He only left his scent behind, but the traces were so inexplicably faint that Derek couldn’t follow them. People avoided him all day when they could, their gazes averted in helpless shame.

“It may be for the best,” Peter said, because he had no sense of self-preservation. 

And Derek attacked him and tore out a few minor arteries, because the lack of self-preservation was a family trait. 

He didn’t have time to miss him, though. Shortly after his disappearance, the Headquarter and several key outposts were hit by a series of vicious attacks. Parts of their territory were completely torched by napalm, and Derek lost more of his soldiers than ever before. In a span of a few days, their grip on the lands was weakened intolerably. 

The humans then did what none of the werewolves expected them to do. 

They made a peace offering. 

Derek was present when the emissary laid out the terms. 

He did not expect to be addressed specifically, though. 

But after lots of haggling over small and major points, the human named Deaton locked eyes with him and said: “There is one more requirement…”

 

*

It was a cold winter day in a quiet town in Northern California when Derek was led to an unassuming-looking house. He was hand-cuffed and had been made to swallow a mild dose of wolfsbane. Not that it was necessary. He had been magically stripped of his werewolf strength, and was incapable of wielding claw or fang. 

He felt vulnerable in a way he never had before.

He felt _human_.

Weaker than that, even.

The guards knocked on the door. 

Derek didn’t know what to feel when he heard familiar footsteps, heard a familiar heartbeat. 

Which was accelerated.

Thrilled, actually.

The door was yanked open and there he was. The boy. His amber eyes found Derek’s and he smiled. Slow and delighted, with a gleam in his eyes Derek had never seen before.

“Bring him in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
